The Real Rowling
by TurnThePaige
Summary: Click to read the REAL story of how the Harry Potter series came to be. Haven't you always been curious how Joanne Rowling came up with these things? Well, now you'll know. . . .
1. Bestseller

**Hey peeps! I hope you all love my VERY FIRST fanfic. I don't really know where this story's gonna go, but I hope you love the first chapter. Tell me if you think I should continue it. I'll come up with something - - but only if YOU want me to! Read and review - - it's not that hard!**

**Chapter One: Bestseller**

Crepuscular light crept through the small window. The sun was once again betraying me and turning over its shift to the moon. _Oh, drat! _I mumbled to myself. I was trying to watch my language more, even when I was alone. It was a great self-control exercise, and I thought I was doing well!

I just couldn't stop writing. I was on the verge of a bestseller. I knew it! Those wizards thought they were so clever, thought they were keeping all the Muggles out of their world. Ha! Well, they were just misguided, over confident creatures. I suppose, though, I am a bit biased. However, that was not how they would be portrayed in my story. They would be heroes.

Eventually, the light had completely gone. I knew that I needed to eat and sleep, so I rolled out of my hunched-up, busy, leave-me-alone pose to finally take a look at my work from a point of view less than two inches from its surface.

As I heated up some of my favorite soup, I skimmed over my new book so far. It was titled, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. What a name. It was almost almost catchy! I sipped the soup idly, straining my eyes to read the vague words on the paper.

Then I finished. It was good! But would it be good enough back in England? I didn't even know how the story was going to end; Harry was just a boy, and he had just met Hagrid. What is so special about this boy that draws me to him? Why was he so special to me, when I had never met him? _He will probably make a great story because of that, Jo,_ I told myself. _Just continue with him; you've always had good instincts. _

I was right. The next day, I sat at the table behind the two characters, jotting down notes as I pretended to survey the menu and overheard their whole conversation. I could tell that Harry's life would be a constant struggle with this "Voldemort" or You-Know-Who. I followed the two around the rest of the day and wrote later on. I'm not a stalker, really! I needed absolutely accurate information for my book.

I soon realized that I was not going to simply fit in with these magical people. I needed an undercover title so that I could walk the streets freely. I found a job, with much difficulty, as a reporter for the _Daily Prophet_. I couldn't use my real name, so I made one up off the top of my head. I selected a wig, a new wardrobe, and much makeup. I looked nothing like my usual self! Ha.

And thus, Rita Skeeter was born.

**So, whattaya think guys? PLEASE review and tell me if you liked it. What do you think? Is it terrible, great, too long or too short, which way should I take it? Come on, my brain isn't THAT creative! It needs help - - your help! Click that button right now, young man/woman or go to your room! I am so intimidating! JK!**


	2. Curiosity

**Left ya hanging there, huh? I know, it's kind of a weird concept, how that totally EW-ISH Rita Skeeter could possibly be the one, the ONLY J. K. Rowling, but I'm gonna make it work. You'll see! Just keep reading!**

**Chapter Two: Curiosity**

I got into Wizarding world with much difficulty, but I tell you, it was worth it. I suppose you'd like to hear the story. . . .

I was there the night young Harry's parents were killed. Of course, I didn't know it was happening at all. I did find it suspicious, though, when a tall cloaked figure stalked up the Potter family walkway. I just shook it off and kept walking, but the next morning I found that Lily and James had been _murdered_. I just couldn't let that go, so I set off for more information, to find out if I couldn't have stopped it from happening. I shuddered to think that I could have indirectly killed those poor young lovers. And what had happened to their son?

I had to know. Curse my curious nature!

The night after the Potters were killed, I forced myself to go into their house. I really didn't like the idea of going into another's house, especially if they weren't home. But I convinced myself that they were never coming back anyway and carefully entered. It was a neat house usually, that much I could tell, but I could also tell that the murderer had taken them by surprise. And what kind of force can completely blow off a doorknob? I brought myself to rifle through a stack of papers when something caught my eye. Something _moving_. For a minute I thought I was just seeing things, but there it was again. I swore something in that stack of newspaper was moving. I knew curiosity killed the cat, but I told myself that it was a good thing I wasn't a cat, or I'd already be dead! I reached out for the paper.

It did move! The picture of a tall, ancient man was moving. His bread was snowy white and his half-moon spectacles glinted as he swayed to some unheard music. He was wearing a maroon robe tied with a golden tassel, not usual attire. How would one take a video and attach it to a newspaper? After the initial shock released me, I read the top. _The Daily Prophet_. I'd never heard of that one. Was it special, from Sweden perhaps? Nonsense; even Sweden didn't have that kind of technology! So how. . . I let my mind drift over impossible possibilities until I was interrupted by a cat jumping through the open window. I gasped, naturally, and stroked the kitty's head, grey with uneven black stripes. I was glad not to be alone anymore, but the cat's eyes pierced through my very core. I could tell this was more than a cat; it knew something and wanted to tell me.

The cat raised its paw, making sure I was watching, and placed it in between two of the newspaper's pages. I turned to that page, not sure what to find there. I saw an article titled, "You-Know-Who is on the Loose!" I quickly skimmed and put it in the back of my mind to actually read it later. I searched around for any more issues of the _Daily Prophet_ and piled them up in my arms. Surely the Potters wouldn't mind. They would want someone to know the truth of how they'd been killed, right? Of course, they seemed like respectable, forgiving people. I knew that these papers would help me to solve the case, and I wouldn't rest until I knew exactly what happened the night before.

The cat meowed. I looked up to see it by the door, calling me with its eyes. I sauntered over to the threshold where the cat sat patiently, flicking its tail this way and that. Then, right before my eyes, a brand new issue of the Daily Prophet appeared. I jumped slightly, but reached slowly for the newspaper. The front page read: "Potters Killed!" Apparently, the cat had no objections to my thieving of the Potters' property. _I must be going crazy,_ I thought. _I'm putting me trust into a cat and seeing things! _But I knew that I hadn't just made up the magic I had seen that night.

Not until two years after this night did I think it to be a good story for a new book. I had read every article in each of the _Daily Prophet_ issues I had found and soon had a basic understanding of wizards. I had many questions, of course, but I was now searching for a way to enter the Wizarding World. I needed a Portkey, or some Floo Powder, or a wand, though I doubted any of that would work for a Muggle.

I spent _years _seeking out any bit of information that could enable me to find the killer. I even filed a report with the police once, but that didn't go over well. After eight years of searching, all I had collected every newspaper article on the murder. I had analysed every website, but you really can't trust those Wikipedia responses. I didn't know what to do next!

Until the cat came back. I was elated by its sudden visit; I had longed to meet this wise feline ever since we had parted. I had always wanted to know what it really was; I knew it was more than just a cat by a long shot. When it came, I was sipping my orange juice and absentmindedly picking at a muffin. I was reading over for the thousandth time the article on You-Know-Who. I wondered why this man didn't have a name, but I knew he must. No one wanted to use it, though; they were _that scared_! Then my ponderings were shattered by a quiet meow. I immediately folded up the aged newspaper and saw the very same cat balancing on my tabletop, tail swishing at my obvious remembrance of the night so many years before. She looked older than she had the last time we'd met (I could tell now that she was a girl).

I jumped from my chair and picked up the cat in affection. It seemed to glare at me, so I set it in the mahogany chair next to mine. I offered her a glass of milk only to realize that she couldn't drink from a cup. She would have to. . .

Morph from cat figure to human figure, just as she did! My eyes must have been like saucers as her rich fur gathered itself atop her head and her limbs all grew ever longer. Her pinkish cat skin changed into a forest-green dress and her eyes seemed to sprout spectacles. She was smiling at me and I realized how silly I must have looked.

"Hello," she greeted me courteously. "My name is Minerva McGonagall." She held her hand out to shake. "I believe we've met."

I took her hand and added, "Yes, yes!"

"I hope I'm not interrupting you," Minerva stated.

"Not at all!" I assured her. "I have always hoped you would come back."

"I know," Minerva replied. I was puzzled for a moment as she took a sip of the milk. "Let me explain. I've been keeping tabs on you, Joanne. Or may I call you Jo?"

"I prefer Jo," I responded.

"Jo, then," Minerva complied. "I have been wandering around in this part of the Muggle world very much lately. I assume you know the Dursleys?"

I nodded, regretful that her visit was for _them_.

"And you also know that Mister Harry Potter resides in their home," she added. "And I know you have been desperately trying to unravel the mysteries of my world."

"I'm so sorry. Have I done something wrong?" I asked, suddenly worried.

"No, no, that's perfectly natural, but witches and wizards believe that they should live completely separate lives from the Muggles," Minerva explained.

"Am I causing much trouble?" I wondered aloud.

Minerva averted her eyes to the floor. "Well. . ."

**So? What do you think? Please, please, please tell me! I'm not going on with the present in this story until I've given you all the details of the past, so review. I can't write without inspiration anyway. Come on, only one review last time? That's lame! But thanks, Lexi. I appreciate it! Come on, peoples! We're all buddies here, so tell me honestly what you think. Please!**


	3. Headmaster

**Yo-la, peoples! BTW: I didn't make that up; I heard it from my BFF Lexi. Anyway, I hope you luv the new chapter, and the whole story too! So read and tell me how much you love/hate it! Okay? Oh! And this is more of the past, before where I started the story. Looking back, I guess that is kinda confuzzling, huh? Sorry! I'm already on this path, so just roll with it! Again, I'm sorry, but it can't be helped! So read and tell me what you think.**

**Chapter Three: Headmaster**

There was an awkward pause. "Yes?" I pressed.

Minerva took in a deep breath. "There is only one person I trusted enough to tell about you. His name is Albus Dumbledore, you know who he is."

"He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the wizard school, yes," I responded. "I get the impression that he's a great person, even if some of the wizards may think he's not."

"Oh, he's absolutely wonderful, been my friend and confidant for years," Minerva mused. "I told him about you that very night so many years ago. I knew everyone would disapprove of my helping you, and even Albus didn't exactly think it was wise of me to guide you. However, being the faithful friend that he is, he didn't tell anyone. We've been debating what to do with you ever since. I've been watching you carefully to make sure that you didn't tell anyone about what you'd found."

"I haven't, truly," I assured her. "Anyone I told would strap me in a straight jacket for years, and I'm not about to do that. We Muggles generally aren't so accepting of magical properties, but I've known the truth for ten years."

"I know, dear, I know," Minerva stressed. "Albus and I see that you can be trusted with our secrets. You are a loyal person, and I have been sent here now to tell you that Albus would like to meet you."

I didn't believe my ears. "Excuse me, but did you just say that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, wants to meet _me, _a simple _Muggle_!?"

"If you're not too busy, of course," Minerva added, smiling at my disbelief. I still couldn't accept it.

"I'm going to the Wizarding World?" I asked. I needed to be completely sure that I wasn't dreaming this whole thing.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Minerva grinned. "Albus would like to accommodate your schedule. When can you visit?"

"Well, I'll need a while to prepare, but today is wonderful. I'm just so excited!" I answered.

"I know," Minerva said simply. "I will return at four o' clock. I believe that is the correct terminology."

"I will be here," I promised. " Do I need to take anyth-" But I was cut off by a flash and an empty chair next to mine.

"Well then," I told myself, "I guess that's a no."

**So people? This one's kinda short, but whatever. It was kind of a filler, I guess. Now drag your mouse to that review button and press the left button on your mouse. Hey, why do they call it a mouse anyway? If you know, include it in your review. Peace out my peeps!**


	4. List

**Okay, so I've realized it's much harder to update during the week, especially with homework every day after seven hours of school. Plus, I have Young Women's on Wednesdays and piano lessons on Tuesdays and who knows what else! Seriously! So don't expect me to be updating every day like in the beginning. Just read when I give you more! AND THEN REVIEW!!!!!!!!**

**Chapter Four: List**

I stared at the wall for a few moments, and then I raised my hand so that it was level with my face. Then, I pulled my hand slowly outward and stopped it about a foot away. Speedily, I brought it back and slapped myself on the cheek. Ow! No, I wasn't dreaming. That meant I needed to get ready!

So I hopped up immediately out of my chair and rushed up the steps. I imagined that Minerva was probably chuckling at my behavior, but I couldn't contain myself. After taking a shower, I brushed my teeth and made a list of everything else I needed to do. I came up with this:

1. Choose an outfit.

2. Fix hair and makeup.

3. Read over Dumbledore articles in _Daily Prophet. _

4. Eat something, if possible.

I threw open the door to my closet and tore through my skirts. I really didn't know what to wear; I didn't have anything like a wizard's cloak. But perhaps that would be trying too hard, anyway. I eventually decided on a simple black silk skirt that flowed about my feet and made me look rather serious.

It was easy to choose a blouse. I wore my finest top, lavender with a bit of fringe on the ends of the sleeves and ruffles down the middle. I only wore it on special occasions, since it seemed to bring me luck.

Dressed in this manner, I maneuvered myself into the bathroom. I flung myself at the counter and opened up the little cabinet embedded in the wall. I removed from that a hairdryer and plugged it in. I aided my damp hair in drying itself the rest of the way. Once I was satisfied with that, I brushed it thoroughly to remove any knots left. After expertly applying makeup to my countenance, I looked myself over and smiled. I looked typical, but I was going somewhere very abnormal.

I made my way back down the stairs where I automatically readied my shoes by the door. Then I walked over to the compartment in which I kept each issue of the Daily Prophet that had been sent to me. _I suppose it was Minerva who always sent me these new issues,_ I surmised. I carefully leaved through the stack and selected the papers that I knew had articles about Dumbledore in their contents. I read over each of them with care, not wanting to miss anything. I didn't quite know what I was looking for, but if I had, I suppose I wouldn't have needed to look at all.

When I had finished reading, I checked the clock. 3:00!? Where had the time gone? I had an extra hour, but I was one of those people who liked to be early all the time. I decided I could stomach something, even with my nerves churning in my belly. I quickly prepared a sandwich for myself, a simple PB&J. Sitting at my aged mahogany table, I chewed on the soft mixture of whole wheat bread **(AN: Not beard! [See reviews]So there!)**, homemade strawberry jam, and chunky peanut butter. I tried not to let my mind wander, as that often proved disastrous.

When I had finished my lunch, I tried listening to music to calm my overactive nerves, but it was no use. I just had to sit and not think, but that is actually hard for me to do. I had to think, but all I thought of was fantasy after fantasy until it got annoying. Just when I was going to try not thinking again, Minerva appeared. I jumped high in my chair, overcome by my silence being shattered.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," Minerva apologized, taken aback at my reaction.

"Oh, that's quite all right," I told her. "Is it already four o' clock?"

"Yes, I believe so," Minerva said. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, but how are we to get to the Wizarding World?" I asked while I slipped into my shoes.

"Oh, you'll see," Minerva answered. She smirked mysteriously and reached into a hidden pocket. A long, skinny piece of wood emerged from its depths: a wand. I couldn't help but smile.

**So? What's the dealio, peoples? What be-eth the verdict? If I must make myself this plain: WHAT DID YOU THINK? Review and tell me. PLEASE!!! I read all your reviews and appreciate every one of them. So don't think I'm not even gonna read it or anything. I look forward to all the comments you guys leave me! Even the bad ones! So come on, just click that button and type what you feel! Don't be a party pooper (like a certain person in my English class--no names mentioned in particular, _Lexi_)!**


	5. Staircase

**Hmm. I think I put a little too much of myself into that last chapter. J. K. Rowling isn't a weirdo, like me! I think it was kinda strange, actually very uninteresting. But whatever. This part is ACTION! Well, not really. But it's Hogwarts, and that's just as good! Right?**

**Chapter 5: Staircase**

Before I knew it, Minerva had grabbed my arm and muttered some complicated chant. I didn't know quite what it felt like, but I knew it felt good, refreshing, even, to be under the power of a spell. Suddenly, both Minerva and I were standing just outside of the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I gaped, wide-eyed at the ancient castle. I could tell by the unseen aura that surrounded it that it was magical, and very old. It glowed with life and its windows were all lighted. Each brick had obviously been laid with care an planning, but not necessarily with love, which brought an air of mystery about its many towers.

I inhaled the scent of magic that I had grown to cherish when I could. It had been in the Potter household, and it had come back every time I had received another issue of the _Daily Prophet_. I thought that magic had a distinct smell, a delightful smell! No one else seemed to share with me this notion, probably because the wizards were around magic all the time and no other Muggle really knew it. _Ah,_ I thought. _This is worth it already._

"What do you think?" Minerva asked me, beginning to stride toward the magnificent structure.

"It's incredible," was all I could think of. I took off after her, eager but containing myself well. We made quick work of our stroll and were soon at the gates of the great school. I took a deep breath as Minerva let us both in.

The interior was even more amazing than the outside! I only had a second to look before I was obligated to follow the swift-footed Minerva, but that second was wonderful. The huge room was very old-fashioned, and there were tapestries hanging from the pale bricks. There were numerous torches and candles that reflected off the floor, which clacked as the students rushed around to they-knew-where. The whole place was abuzz with conversation, and I realized that I was attracting a few stares. I scurried off after Minerva, slightly embarrassed.

I walked, always at Minerva's heels, for what seemed like a while. Finally, we stopped in front of a stone gargoyle almost double my height. "Watch this," Minerva suggested. Then she put up her heads and announced: "Lemon drop!" The gargoyle obligingly turned and twisted until it had transformed into a winding staircase. Minerva commanded, "Come on!" Of course, I obeyed.

The stairs continued to turn as we stepped onto the marble stair closest to us. I had never liked escalators particularly well, and this wasn't better, but I tried not to acknowledge the motion. I knew that it would be worth getting to the top. When the staircase came to a halt, we were looking straight at a large wooden door that arched tall and looked rather simple, considering its location.

Minerva knocked once on the door and then informed me, "I will not be coming in with you, but don't worry. The Headmaster means well." That didn't really make me feel less nervous.

A soft reply came to answer Minerva's knock, a humble voice simply stating, "Come in." Minerva gestured for me to enter. I thanked her quickly and shook her hand. Then I turned the shiny knob until the door gave way.

And I stepped lightly into Dumbledore's office.

**Oh! Cliffhanger! I love stopping at suspenseful parts, although I am not really good at it. And sorry this one's kinda short. Oh, well. So, in case you've forgotten, you were just about to review this chapter. Don't question it; just do it! Please!**


	6. Armchairs

**Okay, so now I have TWO stories going, and I think they're both good. So now I've gotta keep updating both of 'em! That's okay, it's all part of the fun! Check out my other story too if you like this one. Man, now the pressure's on!**

**Chapter Six: Armchairs**

My first thought of Dumbledore's office was: _Wow._ It was incredible, like something out of a fairy tale or a dream! The walls seemed to glow in the slowly fading light outside, the numerous colors seemed to swirl and twirl contentedly on the circular walls. The carpet was lush, almost as if the floor was a sponge! Vivid photographs of people, past headmasters as it turns out, decorated the walls, as well as knickknacks and many things that I was not familiar with. A hat seemed to be. . . _sleeping_ on a shelf, and I witnessed the pictures _moving!_ I knew that I was in the Wizarding World, but still I was surprised! In the center of the room, there was a great wooden desk with many more small treasures and papers littering its surface. Of course, there was also a matching chair.

What shocked me most about the room was that no one was in the tall desk chair. I looked around for a door, a staircase, somewhere to go to find Dumbledore. I found none. At one point, I was considering leaving and telling Minerva that there had been some mistake. At that moment, I heard a kettle whistling behind me.

I whipped around suddenly and a humble sight met my eyes. An old man wearing oven mitts and holding a hot kettle in his hand was sitting down in one of the calico-fabricated armchairs by the fire. The grand fireplace had been lit, and the coffee table sat home to a tray of sweets. I grinned and said, "Professor Dumbledore."

The headmaster peered up curiously at me from his seat by the fire. "Ms. Rowling," he said. His bespectacled eyes sparkled with the glee of something I did not know as I took in his appearance. He was wearing a set of deep orange robes and a matching orange cap. I could tell the hat was supposed to be pointed at the top, but it had been used so much, the tip now drooped. His silvery beard flowed down his front and gave him a look that said: You can trust me. Dumbledore removed his oven mitts, set them on the coffee table, and placed the pot on them carefully. Then he gestured toward the seat across from his with a long, bony-fingered hand. I took the seat graciously and waited for him to speak.

**Hey hey hey! It's Paige! And I've got a funny story, kinda. So today I was hiking with my family, and Kyle says he's feeling like a monkey, for whatever reason. Later, we're making fun of him for it, but of course he doesn't realize it. He keeps saying he has "Monkey Instincts", and he leads the way on the trail - - and gets us LOST!!! Eventually, Dad got us back on the trail and we made it back, but Kyle keeps insisting that it wasn't his fault AND that he does have "Monkey Instincts". He even admitted he doesn't know what instinct means! That Kyle is hilarious! P.S. Sorry this was a really short chapter. I want to really get into it next time! **


	7. Questions

**Hello party peoples! Here you go, and guess what? Dumbledore finally talks in this chapter! Well, I guess he did say something in the last chapter, technically. . . but whatever. Hope you love this new chappie (even u, _dreamer_ if you're even still reading this story)!**

**Chapter Seven: Questions**

Dumbledore reached for something that looked a bit like a sugar cookie with orange sprinkles, but mutated somehow. With this pastry in his hand, he spoke.

"You know," Dumbledore began, "you're very unique. Many Muggles don't even dream that a Wizarding world exists, yet you have actually made it here. Please, help yourself." Dumbledore gestured toward the table, loaded with almost foreign-looking sweets. It was then that I realized I was hungry. I reached for a small box that looked interesting.

"Ah," Dumbledore cautioned. "Those may not be to your liking. Bernie Botts Every Flavor Beans are just that - - and some flavors are not so pleasant. However, if you like, you can chance one. Perhaps you will wind up with a toffee." I knew I shouldn't, for I had lived with my bad luck for some time now, but I reached into the striped box. When my hand emerged, I stared at the little jelly bean. It didn't look so bad, so I quickly popped it into my mouth.

It was terrible! It was like a slimy - - what was it like? Oh, yes: a sardine! I absolutely resented those little fish. I gagged once after I attempted to swallow, but I forced the lump of candy down. "Oh," I remarked. "I should have taken your advice." Dumbledore seemed pleased, and that confused me slightly.

"Ms. Rowling," Dumbledore almost sounded serious, "you are a wise woman." I smiled.

"So, what are we to do with you?" Dumbledore leaned back in his big chair and clasped his wrinkled hands together. I must have looked confused because he added, "It's not every day I'm placed in this situation. I have a secret to keep, a person to help, a problem by most standards."

"Me?" I guessed.

"Yes, I suppose you could look at it that way," Dumbledore answered. "I feel the most important thing is to help the person. That is, in fact, you. I know that this must not be an ordinary day for you either. I presume you have many questions."

"Oh, yes," I responded. "They've been building up over a decade!"

"Well, my dear," Dumbledore invited, "ask away. I can only hope that I can give adequate answers."

I thought about it for a second, sifting through the stack of inquiries that had heaped up in my mind over ten years. I decided that the most pressing question for me was, "Who is You-Know-Who?"

"Ah," Dumbledore sighed. "That _is_ a question. Most wizards would be scared to answer it, but fear of the name only increases the fear of the thing itself. Therefore, I do not refer to him as 'You-Know-Who' when I can, but by his name: Voldemort." A shiver ran up my spine at the mention of that name. "He is a powerful but dark wizard who has supposedly gone missing since the night the Potters were killed."

I nodded. "How is Minerva able to transform herself into a cat?"

Dumbledore grinned, revealing two rows of brilliant teeth. "Minerva has an extraordinary ability. She is an Animagus, which means she can voluntarily change from animal to human. It is sort of ironic that she is Hogwarts' Transfiguration professor."

"So. . . like a werewolf?" I asked, trying to understand.

"No, not quite," Dumbledore explained. "A werewolf changes unwillingly, and on a schedule. Also, when in its wolf stage, a werewolf cannot remember its life as a human. It will very well kill its best friend mindlessly."

"Oh," I said, saddened but enlightened. "And who is the Minister of Magic, exactly?"

Dumbledore's expression hardened ever so slightly. "Cornelius Fudge runs the Ministry of Magic for a living," was his blunt reply. I decided to leave that topic alone.

"All right," I said. I paused again in thought, then remembered an article I'd read on Azkaban, the wizard prison. "What are Dementors?"

"Dementors," Dumbledore started, "are large, black, flying creatures that guard the prison. They have the nasty habit of sucking the happy memories from a person, and they have the gruesome ability to take away a person's soul."

I gulped. "Kill them?"

"No," Dumbledore sighed. "They just retract the soul. The person is left to roam around without their soul for their lives." Dumbledore looked glum as he explained this. It was not a very pleasant thing to say. There was complete quiet in the office again, but some more things still troubled me.

"Professor," I said, shattering the silence, "what about Harry Potter?"

This seemed to take Dumbledore by surprise. "Why, what do you mean?"

"Well, I know that he lives with his aunt and uncle in England," I elaborated, "but does he know he's a wizard? When will he come to Hogwarts? Why was he left at the Dursley's? I really worry about that boy sometimes."

Dumbledore's face softened into compassion. "The night young Harry's parents died, I came with Minerva to the Dursley residence. Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper here at Hogwarts, flew Harry over to us by motorcycle. Seeing as the Dursleys were the only family he had, we left him there. He doesn't know that he is a wizard, but he will receive a letter from Hogwarts next year, inviting him to join the Wizarding World. There is no reason to worry about him, though; I keep in touch with his aunt." Dumbledore winked a kindly eye at me, and I had to smile. There was something about this man that reminded me of my long-lost grandfather.

"Okay," I agreed. "Now, what is going to happen to me?"

Dumbledore pondered this a moment. As I waited for him to answer, I noticed that he hadn't taken even one bite of the orange cookie-like thing that he had formerly picked up from the table.

"Well," he murmured pensively, "I believe that you can be trusted with our secrets. You have managed to keep your knowledge to yourself all this time, and I think you will continue to do so. You may go about your ways, but you can expect me to drop by every now and then." Dumbledore paused for just a moment and added, "If that would be all right with you."

I couldn't believe it. Dumbledore trusted me! As my heart fluttered about and my imagination soared, I realized I was supposed to say something. "Oh, yes, of course! Whenever you like." Dumbledore smiled pleasantly and rose from his armchair. I followed suit.

"Thank you for letting me come," I said with genuine gratefulness. "It was a wonderful visit." I glanced out a window and noticed that the sky was darkened, and stars speckled the blackness. Time really _does_ fly.

"I was just thinking that myself," Dumbledore pointed out. "I must thank you also for agreeing to come." Dumbledore offered me the treat that he had never touched. I took it, slightly confused. "You haven't eaten anything but a jelly bean," Dumbledore explained.

I just grinned, taking it as much more than a just cookie.

**I think this one was a little bit longer, for you people who like the long ones! I actually like long chapters too, but not exactly writing them. Oh well! Hope you liked it and tell me if you did - - or didn't. I love getting new reviews!**


	8. Idea

**IT'S SPRING BREAK!! Can I get a whoop whoop?! (Whoop whoop!) Thank you. For me, Spring Break is Reading and Writing Week! I've already finished 2 books and I'm working on number 3! Plus, I'm writing new chappies for fans just like you! Don't you feel special now, like your self-esteem has been raised? Probably not, huh? Anyway, here we go! You know, eight is my all-time favorite number. . . . Maybe I'll make Chapter 8 extra special. . . . Read to find out and tell me if you thought it was! **

**Chapter Eight: Idea**

I woke the next morning in my bedroom and smiled at the satisfying ray of light streaming through the window. A normal Sunday was dawning. But - - yesterday! Memories flooded back to me, so great I knew I couldn't have dreamed them up! I leaped from the comfort of my bed and started toward the door.

Whoa! I wavered, wobbling from side to side. I'd stood up too quickly. I held out my hand toward the wall to steady myself as spots flashed before my eyes. I blinked them away and opened the door. As I maneuvered down the steps, my thoughts wandered to Minerva, Dumbledore, Harry Potter.

There, on the third stair from the bottom, I literally stopped to think. Harry Potter. A smile crawled across my features as I climbed down the rest of the steps, letting my imagination run. Oh, I couldn't wait to tell someone my idea!

But what if they didn't like it, or if it wasn't allowed, or if it would ruin the Wizarding World. I opened the refrigerator and removed from it a plastic cup of yogurt. I grabbed a spoon from the counter and sat down at the dining table. As I scooped spoonfuls of strawberry yogurt into my mouth, I thought more about my idea.

Harry Potter had always lingered in my thoughts. I had come across the Dursleys too many times not to worry about the poor boy! Orphaned, and then thrust into a ghastly family like that! But I could tell he was special, even for a wizard, and the Dursleys were hindering his extraordinary abilities. He was a wizard, and he should get his chance to be a wizard.

But writing a book about him might be taking it too far. It would endanger the Wizarding World.

But no one would ever think the book was real. They would classify it as fiction and never give it a second thought.

No, it was too risky.

But it was my life-long dream: to write a best-seller!

Dumbledore wouldn't approve.

Or would he?

I bantered back and forth in my thoughts in this manor until I became bored with my self-bickering and shoved the idea far back in my brain. Perhaps later I could consider it as a possibility.

I sighed, finishing off the yogurt. It was Sunday, so I could rest. I probably wouldn't really rest, knowing myself, but I had the option. I would probably sit and add all the things I had learned the day before onto my notes. I would think more about the mystery of wizards. I would read and study and not worry if I could.

That was a great Sunday, truly, but my thoughts often returned to Dumbledore. He said he would pop by every now and then, or something of that nature. I couldn't wait for now or then to come.

Unfortunately, exactly three weeks passed before his visit. I had begun to consider that I _had _dreamed all those marvelous events that seemed so long ago. I hated to even think of that possibility, and I pushed it away quickly. I was almost relieved when I found Dumbledore sitting in my living room.

It had been a rainy evening, and I had been trapped inside most of the day. I had been staring at the window, being pelted with infinite raindrops, wrapped up in a fleece blanket with a glassy look in my eyes. The rain both fascinated and bored me. When I heard a small chuckle from the next room over, I snapped out of my trance and hurried to see who was in my house. Much to my relief, it was, of course, Professor Dumbledore. I smiled at the old man, whose robes hardly matched the weather. They were a light yellow-green that instantly brightened my mood.

"Hello," Dumbledore greeted me. "I hope I'm not intruding, but I thought I might pay you a visit today."

"I'm glad you came," I stated truthfully.

We had a pleasant visit, asking each other questions about our very different lives. I only grew to like the sage old man more and more. He was just like my grandfather, except my grandfather hadn't been a wizard and Dumbledore was alive. I could tell that Dumbledore was a modest man. He didn't think that he was great at all, which was his first mistake.

We talked for a few hours, until the rain had faded away and the clock announced that it was much too late now to stay awake. By the light of the moon, Dumbledore "Apparated" to his rightful home.

After that, Dumbledore's visits became regular. Every week on Sunday, he would appear in the living room. It soon became a race to see who would get there first each week. Sometimes Minerva accompanied Dumbledore, and we all talked together. I didn't mention my idea to them; I always forgot to bring it up. But as July neared, I remembered at long last.

I whipped into the living room rapidly, determined to break Dumbledore's winning streak. However, of course, he was already there. "You win," I informed him, as if he didn't know. His cheerful face gave that away. I liked this new "race" thing. It made me feel younger, I suppose.

Dumbledore's eyes glistened. "Yes, I suppose I did." Then, suddenly, it hit me. My idea came back, although I had no idea why. I took a seat silently across from Dumbledore.

The professor's eyes changed to a worried expression. "Is everything all right, Ms. Rowling?" he asked with genuine care. We had never started to refer to each other by our first names, but we really didn't care either.

I looked up. "Hmm? Oh, yes, I just remembered something. . . ."

"Well, tell me what it is," Dumbledore insisted.

I sighed and looked down again, and I decided I knew him well enough to confide in him. "A while back, I had an idea," I began. "You know, my dream is to write a best-selling book, but I've never before been inspired to write. Then I thought. . . well. . . I've always believed that Harry Potter - -"

"I told you not to worry about him," Dumbledore pointed out.

"I know, but I've always believed that Harry Potter was special," I managed to utter. "I know he is. As an infant, he evaded death. Well, sir, I think he would make the perfect main character." I finished talking and finally breathed. Then I chewed my lip as Dumbledore pondered this.

"So," Dumbledore began, "you would like. . . to write a novel. . . about Harry Potter. . . and his life in the Wizarding World?" I nodded. That was basically what I wanted.

"You do realize that would put all wizards in grave danger, don't you?" Dumbledore asked seriously.

"Well, there are seldom few Muggles that would even consider that a Wizarding World could exist," I pointed out. "The book would be labeled as fiction and it would be read for entertainment only." Dumbledore thought about this for many minutes that seemed to me like hours.

Dumbledore broke his thoughtful silence and concluded, "I will bring this to Minerva's attention. We will decide whether these are sufficient circumstances for a. . . book." Dumbledore slowly stood, and I followed suit.

"Sorry to cut our visit short with that," I apologized.

"Oh, no problem," Dumbledore waved away the words. "I will be back next week with Minerva."

"Okay," I said. I always looked forward to seeing Minerva. I managed a small smile. "Have a nice day."

Dumbledore grinned too and said, "Likewise."

**So, was it super special? Looking back, probably not. Oh well! It's a chapter, and it's a chapter that you are going to review! Come on peeps, tell me what you think! I love reviews. Have a good Spring Break, and keep reading!**


	9. Opinions

**Hey, I'm finally back! I know you missed me, right? Of course. Okay, here goes the next chappie! Hmm, I bet you guys have a good guess as to what happens next, so I'm gonna shake it up for ya! Hehehe... mischievous thoughts being collected...**

**Chapter Nine: Opinions**

"Absolutely not!" Minerva practically screamed. I was taken aback. It wasn't even Sunday; it was Monday evening. Apparently, Minerva was enraged at my proposal, far more so than Dumbledore. She couldn't wait to scold me and had to come as soon as she found out. I felt like a little child who had done something particularly naughty, and I found it difficult to meet her almost hostile gaze. Seeing my shock, she calmed down a bit. "I'm sorry for yelling," Minerva apologized.

"I should have expected it, really," I agreed, not wanting her to shriek again.

Minerva heaved herself into a cushioned chair next to Dumbledore. I hadn't even noticed that he had come until then. Then, taking my seat across from the two wizards, I felt once more like a child who had been sent to the Principal's Office.

"Dear, you must have seen this coming. I mean, really, what _were_ you thinking?" Minerva asked, exasperated.

"I'm sorry," I explained, "but I'm a writer, and when I see an opportunity, I take it. Fiction is a rather popular section of Muggle literature, and much of it is of wizards and witches." I thought for a minute. "For example, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe. The White Witch is nothing like you, Minerva, but still she can perform magic. And in Tolkein's Lord of the Rings, Gandolf is actually a bit like Dumbledore, although not exactly the same. No ordinary Muggle would ever _truly_ believe that any magical world could exist. It is widely considered impossible and, frankly, childish."

Minerva sighed. "We simply cannot take that risk. Surely you understand that."

I nodded. "Of course," I succumbed. "But think about it," I added, glancing at Dumbledore, who was simply staring at the ground with his fingertips pressed together.

Suddenly Dumbledore looked up. "Have you made your point, Minerva?"

She seemed taken aback. "Yes, I suppose I have."

Dumbledore gazed solemnly at me next. "Personally, I think it's a wonderful idea."

"But- -" Minerva interjected, but Dumbledore cut her off with one hand motion.

"However, since Minerva and I seem to have different opinions on what is to be done, we will discuss it and return on Sunday as planned," Dumbledore finished. Then, turning from me to Minerva, he said, "Agreed?"

Minerva was bewildered at Dumbledore's reaction, and all she could do was nod.

"Good," Dumbledore said, eyes sparkling. Then, facing me, he added, "We will see you then."

And then they were gone.

**Whoa! And sorry it's been so long since I've written; I've just been so busy. . . you know? So anyway, what do you think is gonna happen? No, don't tell me, I might use your ideas! (Unless you want that of course) :P Let me know what you thought! Oh, and sorry this chapter was so short. I promise a longer one next time!**


	10. Deal

**School just ended yesterday! I'm off for three months! That means more writing time! Plus, on the same day, Tia turned thirteen! I went to her sleepover on Saturday, and even though I had to leave early it still rocked sox. I had an awesome time, singing along and jumping to Taylor Swift songs with all my friends! And you know what else? _My _birthday is coming up! Yeah!**

**Chapter Ten: Deal**

The more I thought about it, the more I regretted even mentioning my idea. All it had done was get Minerva angry at me, and who's to say that anyone would ever read or be interested in Harry Potter? Repeatedly kicking myself, I made it through the week and sat anxiously in my living room on Sunday.

I had prepared a short speech eloquently stating that they should just disregard my proposal entirely. I didn't know what I was thinking. I just wanted to be friends again.

When Dumbledore and Minerva finally arrived, I invited them to sit down and began giving the somewhat forgotten by now speech. By the end, it was mostly ad lib, but they heard me out. "I'm sorry I even suggested this in the first place," I started. "I guess I just got carried away in my own hopes and I didn't consider the possible effects on your world. I would never want to endanger you or the Wizarding World, so I think it would be best if we all just forgot about this whole episode and moved on. What do you say?"

I guess the longing to write the book still hung in my eyes. No amount of lies to myself or my friends could change that. Minerva smiled warmly. "We think that you should write your book. It's obvious that's what you want, and we wizards can protect ourselves. It's worked for all this time, and I would be surprised if it suddenly stopped working just because of a book." Minerva paused. "We trust you, Jo."

I couldn't believe it. I looked at Dumbledore, who was smiling in an almost mocking way. I couldn't help but grin. That seemed the appropriate thing to do until I could find the right words.

When I finally found my voice, I said, "Thank you! I mean, are you sure? Oh, of course you are! Thank you so much. This is my dream, you know. Not exactly how I pictured it, but that's okay! Thank you!" I realized I was rambling tediously and stopped myself, still smiling.

"But," Dumbledore said, "there is one condition."

"What's that?" I asked.

"We get a copy once it's published," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.

I felt like the smile would burst off my face as I said, "Deal!"

After that, I got right to work on my book. I observed Harry Potter to find that his life was not ideal. I wanted so much to help him get away from those awful Dursleys, but really, what could I do? Legally, there was nothing wrong with anything they did. Plus, it would all be over soon enough. He would get his letter from Hogwarts and it would all be better. . . wouldn't it?

I was ecstatic when Harry's powers started to show. When Dudley trapped himself behind the glass in the zoo, I could barely keep from laughing at him. I remember thinking, _Serves him right, the pig of a boy that he is!_ Little did I know that he would end up with a real curly pig tail later on.

However, when Hagrid took Harry to Diagon Alley, I had a problem trying to get in. The spells cast over everything magical to keep Muggles out proved very effective. I went home numerous times, thinking I'd forgotten something. I also took several wrong turns. Eventually, I sought out Dumbledore. I would need his help to get back into the Wizarding World.

Dumbledore, always helpful, went all out to make sure I got all the information I needed. He showed me how to get into the Wizarding World with no difficulty and even presented me with a gift! A timeturner, he called it. I told him I couldn't accept it, but of course he insisted. I found myself in the Leaky Cauldron sooner than I thought possible just as Hagrid entered with Harry. Luckily, everyone there seemed fascinated with "The Boy Who Lived" so I didn't look out of sorts, staring at him in the crowd.

Suddenly, my life became Harry's, with one big exception: I wasn't magical. Sure, I could have pretended to be a Squib, but I would rather pretend I could do magic. I just bought the magic quill and set into actress mode. I didn't want to live among Wizards; I wanted to be one.

I was Rita Skeeter, not Joanne Rowling. I had to create a different look for myself as well as a new personality. I didn't like ruining all those people's reputations, but that was my new reputation, my job. I especially had a hard time interviewing Harry. I wanted to ask him entirely different questions, give my books more than _my_ thoughts and _my_ observations. But I had to stay in character or people may become suspicious of me. I had to be mean.

It nearly broke my heart, writing the article about Harry, but I had to do it. I couldn't disrupt his natural life in any way. I wanted to give only facts in my books, the Harry Potter series.

However, facts were hard to come by. I couldn't be everywhere, even with a timeturner! Sometimes, I just had to add things for special effect. They fit in with the plot, covered up mistakes, and even explained some things. I didn't think there could be too much harm in that.

I was surprised at how successful they were. I could only hope the Dursleys wouldn't come across them, and if they did, that they wouldn't tell Harry about them.

After the release of the seventh and final book in the series, I actually met Harry Potter as myself. I told him everything: my secret identity, my reasons, and my apologies. To this day, we are great friends, although he is a harsh critic on my writings. He even had me over for dinner once. Ginny is an excellent cook! Their children are so sweet, and exactly as depicted in The Deathly Hallows.

Now, as I conclude my story, I hope you will find a new understanding and appreciation of the Harry Potter series. And even if you don't, I am glad that you took the time to read this little story of mine.

Also, I hope you take these words to heart and always abide by them: Nothing -- _nothing _-- is impossible.

I am J. K. Rowling, and I have just proved those words to you.

**So, what did you think? I kind of liked it, and now it's over! Boo-hoo! But as long as people read it, it will never be over! Yay! I know I'm nothing like Joanne Rowling, and I can't help but think that maybe I shouldn't have made this first person. Oh, well! There's no changing it now! Now I bid you adieu. :-)**


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